


we'll let the fire just bathe us

by smallredboy



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: F/F, First Kiss, Minor Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Nonbinary Character, Other, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Repression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 17:07:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19398613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallredboy/pseuds/smallredboy
Summary: Uriel goes down to Hell for a business meeting. It doesn't go according to plan.





	we'll let the fire just bathe us

**Author's Note:**

> _"We have been raised to fear the yes within ourselves, our deepest cravings." —Audre Lorde._
> 
> for femslashficlets with the prompt table queer women's literature, with the quote above.
> 
> it's a crime that there's no fic for this ship yet!! i love me some woman-shaped angels & demons. in the script book uriel's pronouns are he/him and beelzebub's switch from he/him to she/her, so i used that. he/him lesbian rights!
> 
> title from _mama_ by my chemical romance.
> 
> enjoy!

Uriel has a diplomatic meeting to go to and he really, really doesn’t want to. Mainly because that’ll mean he has to talk to Beelzebub, the Lord of the Flies, all after being aware that there is a relationship— an affectionate relationship between an angel and a demon, and they can’t have that.

Not because their sides are against it (although that is definitely a factor), but because both of them have been reaching for something similar since the beginning of time. All while Demon Crowley and Principality Aziraphale get it on Earth, kiss and share their time as if they’re not from completely different sides. From different universes, even. Beelzebub and Uriel have been wanting each other for as long as either of them remembers.

Uriel sighs and fixes his hair, looks at his markings and makes sure everything is in order. Gabriel wishes him luck and he only scowls at him a little before walking down to Hell. He can’t help but be a little jealous of Michael, who got to at least attempt to help in Demon Crowley’s elimination, who got to see Beelzebub there, in her throne, with that fly atop of her head, smiling smugly. He wants to see her so bad, and he will soon enough.

“Lord Beelzebub,” he says, walking into his chambers. He detests Hell, really, he does— but Beelzebub is the only tolerable demon he’s ever met. She’s kinda nice, actually, kind of funny at the edges, a smirk on her lips at all given times. She’s adventurous, lethal in a less boring way than angels or her demons. “I came here to speak about what we have to do in regards to the Apocalypse that wasn’t. When will the next attempt come around?”

Beelzebub looks at their blackened nails, feigning disgust and disinterest.

“Beelz,” he tries. “There’s no one around. You can…” he trails off.

She looks up at him and smiles a little, propping her legs up on the armrest of her throne. “I don’t think we’re supposed to know when the next attempt izz. Or if there will even  _ be  _ another one. But I’d say it’ll take a couple thouzzand years more.” She snorts and twirls a few strands of her hair on her fingers, forked tongue sliding out of her mouth to lick her cracked lips. “Plenty of time for not-so-Demon Crowley and not-so-Principality Azzziraphale to keep snogging, I believe.”

“Beelz,” he squeaks, undignified. “Don’t mention those…  _ creatures  _ here.”

Beelzebub stands up from her throne without even much of a blink— she barely ever blinks, now that he thinks about it, and walks towards him. “Why?” she asks, tilting her head. The fly on top of her head looks even larger up close, it making weird sounds and Uriel swears its eyes are a faint shade of pink.

“Because—” Uriel tries, although he has no idea what a good lie would be for this situation.

“Becauzzzze they have what we don’t have, Uriel?” she asks, and Uriel notes the complete lack of malice in her eyes. “What we wish we had, but cannot, Uriel?” she presses when he doesn’t respond.

He still goes limp, her whole body freezing with something like want, like desire. Like the all-controlling need to scream  _ yes, because of that, please, I want to kiss you, yes! _ But it doesn’t come. It can never come.

“Izz that it?”

Uriel stares at her. She stares back, unrelenting.

The word is ripped out of his mouth forcibly like it’ll eliminate him to say them, but he still breathes  _ yes yes yes _ , pulls her into a kiss. His eyes flutter shut and the universe stops spinning on its ever-evolving axis and all the tension across his body drops like it was the weight of a feather.

“That was it,” Beelzebub tells him once they pull away from each other, even with no necessity to breathe.

Uriel can’t help but grin, his body impossibly light. “That was it,” he agrees. “That was it.”


End file.
